


School of Rock; Sound of Life

by Qwerty_2poynt0



Category: Kubo and the Two Strings (2016)
Genre: A rocker cinnamon roll, AU, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Music, Alternate Universe - No Powers, Angst and Feels, Extended Metaphors, Family Drama, Family Dynamics, Family Feels, Family Issues, Flashbacks, Foreign Language, Gen, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, Japanese-American Character, Kubo Has Both Eyes, Kubo With an Electric Guitar AU, Language Barrier, Light Angst, Metaphors, Military Background, Moving In Together, Music, Past Character Death, Rock and Roll, Rocker Kubo, School of Rock references because I'm a nerd, kubo is a cinnamon roll, sort of
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-28
Updated: 2017-04-28
Packaged: 2018-10-20 16:07:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,675
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10666134
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Qwerty_2poynt0/pseuds/Qwerty_2poynt0
Summary: Whenever his aunts were involved, surprises weren't 'hit-or-miss' so much as just 'miss'. He couldn't say they didn't try, but most everything they did seemed to want to get Kubo to forget half his genes came from his father. At least, that's what it felt like. His mother's side was rather xenophobic to put it accurately as possible. That didn't mix well when your sister's husband was American and their child ended up living with you after said sister and husband had died.It's been a little less than two years since Kubo's parents had died and custody of him had been given to his mother's relatives in Japan. A place he hadn't been to since he was born, with a language he'd had no inkling of how to speak. Kubo wasn't necessarily unhappy. Just... unhappy. It's complicated.





	School of Rock; Sound of Life

**Author's Note:**

> Please note any and all japanese is courtesy of google translate and a vague understanding of Japanese gifted to me by watching a whole lot of anime and vocaloid songs in sub. (And I get any little things about Japan as a place from the same sources plus Mary Cagle/Let's Speak English, which is awesome and everyone should just drop everything and read all of it.)

   The house was always empty when he got home from school, but Kubo didn't particularly mind that. It meant he could play; it meant he could play as loud as he wanted, at least for a little while. He'd saved up to get himself a speaker for his father's old electric guitar, and it was compatible with his mother's old bass too. He hooked up the electric guitar and strummed out a few chords. One of the chords sounded familiar next to the others and he realized he'd almost started playing School of Rock again. It was just about the only thing he played lately for one reason or another. He decided to continue.

   The four-chord riff continued on and Kubo kept going as the lyrics ran through his head.

 _Baby we was making straight A's,_  
_But we were stuck in our dumb days._  
_Don't take much to memorize your lies._  
_I feel like I've been hypnotisized._  
_And then that magic man; he come to town._  
_Whoo wee! He done spun my head around._  
_He said, "Recess is in session._  
_Two and two make five."_

   And cue the bass that he couldn't play at the same time as the electric.

 _And now baby, now I'm alive._  
_Oh yeah! I am alive_

   Then the chords for the chorus.

 _And if you want to be the teacher's pet,_  
_Baby you just better forget it._  
_Rock got no reason._  
_Rock got no rhyme._  
_You better get me to school on time. Oh yeah!_

   "Yeah!"

   It had taken him a while to get it down (he was honestly still kind of working on it) but he'd had a lot of time to himself to work on the guitar solo after the first chorus. The next verse was his favorite. He started singing as his fingers fell into the familiar chords for the verses.

   "Oh you know I was on a honor roll.  
   Got good grades and got no soul.  
   Raised my hand before I could speak my mind.  
   I been biting my tongue too many times."

    _And then that magic man said to obey._

   "Uh-huh."

_Do what magic men do, not what magic men say._

   "Say what?"

_Now can I please have the attention of the class?_

   This was always the part his grandfather objected to too much for Kubo to play this song when he and Kubo's aunts were around.

_Today's assssignment:_

   "KICK SOME ASS!"

   He rammed into the chords for the second chorus.

=-=

   "Perfect!" Kubo's father exclaimed as the child clumsily hit a C-chord on the huge acoustic they kept in the house.

   "Hanzo, he's never going to learn the right way unless we get him his own guitar." Kubo's mother commented as though making a suggestion upon seeing her son struggling with the instrument that was taller than he was.

   "I can get my own guitar?!" This was news to the ten-year-old.

   "Sure thing." His father ruffled his hair and smiled down at the boy. "Next time I come home from work, we'll have a special guitar, just for you."

   Kubo couldn't wait.

=-=

   "Kuuuboo! <We're home!>" His aunts always spoke in Japanese. They had been trying to hammer the language into him since he'd moved in. They would always be so happy whenever he managed more than a sentence.

   "<Welcome back Oba-san!>" Kubo called over, unplugging the amp from his bedroom wall. That phrase he had memorized forwards, backwards, and sideways.

   "<Kubo, we have a surprise for you!>"

    _A surprise?_

   Whenever his aunts were involved, surprises weren't 'hit-or-miss' so much as just 'miss'. He couldn't say they didn't try, but most everything they did seemed to want to get Kubo to forget half his genes came from his father. At least, that's what it felt like. His mother's side was rather xenophobic to put it accurately as possible. That didn't mix well when your sister's husband was American and their child ended up living with you after said sister and husband had died.

   Kubo tossed aside the sliding door to his room and trotted out into the hallway. He got to the front room and the two of his aunts were standing shoulder to shoulder with excited, slightly conspiratorial smiles across their painted lips. They stepped apart and held up... an instrument? It was probably an instrument. Kubo had to admit, he was curious. It seemed like an acoustic mixed with a banjo but with only three strings, no frets, and made with more cloth than either instrument.

   "...  _Doshita no.._ um..." He wasn't sure if those were the right words to be using. " _Nandes..._ uh..."

   " _Sorehanandesuka_ <That's what you're saying?>" One of them offered.

   " _Sou! So-re-ha-nan-desuka?_  " Kubo ran through the word slowly, deliberately. "What is it?"

   "<It's called a Shamisen. Your mother could play it very well when she was your age.>" The other explained.

   "My mother..." She'd never played anything but the guitar for as long as Kubo remembered. "<Is it like a guitar?>"

   His aunts looked at each-other a moment then back to Kubo.

   "<No.>" They said in unison. Kubo's shoulders slumped. He probably should've expected that answer.

   "<Oh. How do you play it, then?>" His aunts were all too delighted to give him every little detail. They rushed over and didn't necessarily guide his fingers and arms so much as mold them around the neck and strings and were overall just very handsy like they always were. The three of them spent the next ten or so minutes fiddling with the shamisen and Kubo couldn't help but have his mind wander between the redirecting of his hands and the correction of his form.

=-=

   His mother's hands were gentle as she directed Kubo's fingers delicately across the steel strings of the bass.

   "Once you get the basic notes down, you'll get to learn how to read music." She'd tell the eager eight-year-old.

   "Why are your sisters upset whenever they see Dad? And why doesn't Grandfather like it when I play guitar?" He'd ask on occasion.

   "They... don't like what it all represents." She'd answer.

   "What does it represent?" He asked once.

   "... That I'm no longer tethered to them."

   If he'd ever gotten the chance, Kubo very well would've asked at some point, 'What about me?'

=-=

   Kubo practically leaped the whole way to school. Today was the cultural festival at the middle school and his English class had asked him to play. While he didn't really think of himself as such, all his teachers would comment about Kubo's general popularity. Perhaps that was why when Kubo had suggested that the class focus on music in English, most everyone had hopped on board. Kubo was just glad he could play in a public place and for longer than twenty to forty minutes in a day with an actual amp. He'd never been more excited about anything in his life. He also hadn't told his aunts or his grandfather about it.

   He burst into the English room with his father's guitar strapped to his back and was happy to see the teacher had brought the speaker he needed. Kameyo-sensei was his favorite teacher by far. He could speak in English to her since she was bilingual and she was one of the people who wanted him to be himself. She was also much more patient with him whenever he tripped over his Japanese than a lot of the other adults.

   "Good morning Kameyo Sensei." He greeted her with a smile. She was one of the only people he smiled at. He'd heard some people around speculate that it was his braces, but he just didn't have much occasion to smile around many people.

   "Good morning Kubo!" She replied, opening one of the cabinets to reveal everything the class had prepared to set up their room with.

   Everyone who'd gotten there yet started work. He started tuning the guitar even though he really didn't need to. Those in his English class and from some of Kameyo's other English classes who weren't working with other classes and clubs on their booths grouped around the makeshift stage everyone had made for Kubo and the only other kid without prior obligations who could play an instrument applicable to rock music.

   It was a girl named Mari who had been taking piano since before she was born and could sight read really well. Like, _scary_ well; Kubo had been both surprised and slightly terrified when he'd set the music for 'Bring Me Back to Life' (he'd never particularly cared about that song's reputation, the whole thing was too awesome to play) and she just started playing it right then and there. She wasn't in Kubo's class, but she'd learned the music they'd be doing quickly and all Kubo had had to instruct her on whenever they practiced was her technique.

   "<It's... too classical.>" He tried to convey through the language he was having an increasingly hard time with. "<Rock is about...> uh..." Kubo fished for the words, "<energy in music.>" He was positive his in-fluent Japanese had confused her so he just decided to switch to English and hope they could work from there. "Hype."

   "Haip?"

   "Hype." Kubo repeated with a smile. Yeah, this could work. "Like this."

   He struck a powerful chord and flew into the guitar part for 'Stick it to the Man', using just about every way he knew how to get the general concept of Hype across to the sixth grader. It had worked and they'd gotten even further after that.

   "<Play something!>" Their classmates clamored, wanting a preview before the parents and other members of the community were to flood the school. Kubo turned to Mari.

   "Take on Me?" He knew it was her favorite. She smiled brightly and nodded.

   "Definitely."

=-=

   "Kubo, what's that you're listening to?" His father asked. At the time Kubo hadn't realized the vaguely concerned undertone to Hanzo's voice.

   "Guns N' Roses." Kubo said matter-of-factly. His father's expression turned rather strange.

   "Don't tell your mother." He said, picking up his son. Kubo giggled as Hanzo spun him around the room before placing him down and hitting pause just before the disc got halfway through the first verse of 'Welcome to the Jungle'.

   "Why not?"

   "Because Guns N' Roses is not something a nine-year-old should be listening to." Hanzo chuckled.

   "What should a nine-year-old listen to, then?" Kubo wondered.

   "Uhm... Uh... The Beatles. And... Elvis. They're very good starting points for rock and roll. And also won't get me a lecture from your mother for letting you listen to them."

   Kubo and his father laughed and Kubo looked through the house's extensive CD collection to find the things his father had told him to listen to.

=-=

   Kubo looked into the crowd smiling brightly. It was around an hour before lunch and his fingers were beginning to fatigue. Luckily, he and Mari were actually switching out with some other students who had wanted to use a different genre, then after lunch the two of them would be back onstage.

   "Alright you two, come down from there." Kameyo waved the pair down and Kubo unplugged his guitar as Mari turned off the keyboard they'd borrowed from the music room. "<Everyone's saying how good you two were.>"

   "It was fun." Mari chimed.

   "Good English." Kameyo encouraged. Mari smiled brightly.

   "It was great, but I'm ready to eat something." Kubo said.

   "Brilliant idea, Kubo. But lunch isn't for a little while later."

   "<I'm only half-following this.>" Mari interjected.

   "Oh, <sorry>." Kubo apologized.

   "<It's alright.>" 

   "Kubo!" A familiar voice exclaimed from the doorway and Kubo flinched. He turned and saw his Aunts entering the slightly crowded room. And his grandfather behind them.

   "... Hi- ah I-  _Konnichiwa._ " Kubo switched quickly between languages.

   "<Good morning Kubo, how has... the fair been?>" It was about in the middle of his sentence that Kubo's grandfather noticed the electric guitar strapped to his torso. Kubo subconsciously clutched the instrument as if he expected his family to rip it from his hands at any second. He tried convincing himself that they wouldn't, nothing remotely like that had ever happened before, but the way they acted around him whenever he had the guitar made him uneasy.

   "<I... I've been playing... with Mari all morning.>" He decided to focus on constructing comprehensible sentences as opposed to the looks his aunts were exchanging.

   "<I see.>" His grandfather's countenance became just a bit more closed off than usual.

   "<Everyone says we're good.>" Kubo tacked on, not sure if he was saying it for himself or his family.

   "<Yeah!>" Mari spoke up. "<He's been teaching me the music and my parents are coming later when we go back onstage.>"

   "<You can stay and watch if you want.>" Kameyo spoke. A spike of anxiety ran through Kubo and he looked to the teacher. She simply gave him an uplifting smile that he pretended to be encouraged by.

   "<How long is it?>" One of his aunts wondered.

   "<We're going back onstage an hour or so after lunch.>" Mari informed them enthusiastically. Kubo attempted to share her enthusiasm.

   "<But in the meantime, the two of them have plenty of time to explore some of the other events at the festival.>" Kameyo added.

    _Yeah._

=-=

   "Mom, why do we never go and visit Grandpa? I don't think I've ever even seen him."

   Kubo was five when he asked that and his mother's expression had been so odd to him.

   "Well, you did see him once, but you were just a baby. Your father was still stationed in Japan when you were born, remember?" Kubo nodded. "Well your grandfather and my sisters were all so excited to see you and nearly took you home with them themselves. Your aunts were most happy about the fact that I'd decided to name you Kubo."

   "Why?" Kubo could sense a story and he just loved those.

   "Well, your father and I hadn't really been having an easy time picking your name, and we were still flip-flopping right up to the day you were born. But when I held you in my arms and saw your little face, for some reason a conversation I'd had with my sisters... lifetimes ago came to my mind. They were braiding my hair one day and chatting about boys and asking me if I liked any, things like that."

   "Ew." Kubo cringed. His mother giggled.

   "Yes well, it was a very big deal at the time. Then we started getting to the subject of children and the two of them liked the name Kubo very much and told me that if I had a son when I got married I just  _had_ to name him Kubo. And I told them only if I remembered and if it felt just right. And that's exactly what happened."

   "Wow." Kubo whispered. "... So... Why don't they come over more often? Don't you still braid each-other's hair?"

   His mother gave him a sad smile.

   "Oh, we stopped doing that lifetimes ago."

=-=

   Kubo stared at his new instrument for a long time. The sun had set a while ago, but he hadn't had an easy time sleeping. After he'd finished playing for the day and his family had taken him home, he'd shoved his parents' guitars into the deepest darkest corner of his closet. He didn't want to see another guitar as long as he lived.... No, that was a lie. But he just wanted to pretend for a little while that his mother's family didn't think of her and how much they hated his father every time Kubo so much as touched one of the things. So instead, he had picked up his shamisen and just sort of stared at it. It took him ages to grap hold of the pick (or plectrum or whatever it was) and pluck out a few quiet little notes. It sounded nothing like his old life.

    _I suppose this means I'm going to have to learn to actually play it._

   Kubo sighed.

   "Did you really have to die?"

   He gazed down at the strings of the shamisen. It was only half of what a real guitar was, and was oddly proportioned compared to the other instrument. He really wanted it to be an acoustic guitar that was just his size. But instead it was some foreign thing that didn't sound at all like what he wanted so badly.

   "I miss you. I miss my life."

   He clutched the neck of the shamisen and had the sudden urge to smash it to pieces. It wouldn't be hard. It was much more delicate than electric guitars or basses.

    _' <Remember, this isn't a guitar.>'_

   They'd been so happy that he'd so much as asked them how the shamisen worked. He lightly scraped the edge of the plectrum across the resonation chamber, hearing the hollow scratch echoing in the drum. Then he took the flat edge and tapped it. The strings hummed almost imperceptibly in response. He pulled at the strings with his fingertips. It sounded stiff and jumpy.

   "Come on, you're just new." He whispered to it. "I promise, we'll loosen up your strings yet."

   He decided to see if he could mimic some guitar chords. He knew it wasn't a guitar, but if he treated it like one, it could be interesting. The cluster of notes that came out grated on his ears and he nearly dropped the shamisen because of how bad it sounded.

   "... Or not. Or not."

   He plucked at the strings one at a time, changing his fingers as he went.

    _I'm pretty sure that's a C... and that's probably G..._

   He eventually identified five-ish individual notes.

    _Now what?_

   He continued on even as his eyes grew heavy and eventually he lost the strength to keep hold of the shamisen, falling asleep as it slipped from his hands.

 =-=

   "Mom, when's Dad gonna be back?"

   "Just a few more weeks honey."

   "And then I'll have my own guitar?" It was all he'd been thinking about for what felt like forever. His eleventh birthday was just a few days before Hanzo would come home.

   "Yes Kubo." His mother smiled, "And you'll be the best guitarist the world has ever seen."

   Kubo giggled as his mother wrapped him in her arms and swayed him from side to side.

   He never did get that acoustic guitar.

=-=

   "Kuuuuboo! <Breakfast is ready!>"

   Kubo awoke leaning against the wall with a crick in his neck and the shamisen half-on his bed.

   "Mmh, <I can be moment.>" His Japanese was always at its worst in the mornings. He could feel the confused and just vaguely disheartened look on his aunt's face from the other side of the door.

   "<Alright then.>" And she left. Kubo stretched out his neck and dug his hand into the knot that had formed overnight. The muscles twinged and ached as he got his shamisen into a more respectable position and he knew the tense soreness would go away eventually. He made his way down the hall and to the table where his relatives were talking with much too fast and complex Japanese for him to understand first thing in the morning.

   He sat down in front of his plate. It was always just a little bit strange not to see a bowl of cereal or some form of toast with bacon or oatmeal or something in in front of him in the mornings. Here it was like lunch but very frequently with eggs. And always, ALWAYS a side of rice. Steamed rice. There was rice with everything in Japan. He was quickly growing tired of it. But at the same time, every morning when he woke up, he became more and more used to the little quirks of meals and language and his mother had already conditioned him to never wear shoes inside the house, so that had been easy when he'd first arrived.

   "<Kubo, I heard you playing your new shamisen last night.>" His grandfather said, pulling Kubo out of his stupor.

   "You di- <Did you?>" A jittery, slumping feeling slid into his stomach, lowkey spreading through his muscles. He knew his grandfather couldn't possibly read minds, but Kubo just assumed he could, so hearing that he'd been up and heard Kubo playing made him feel like he'd heard his thoughts and feelings as well.

   "<Yes, you take to it very well. I taught your mother how to play that instrument, you know.>"

   "<Did you?>" Now Kubo was interested and the faint coiling throughout his body relaxed.

   "<Oh yes, she was simply a prodigy, she really should've taught you.>" His grandfather's expression turned wistful. Kubo couldn't help but feel something resonate whenever his grandfather was like this. The man was nearly always closed off, but in moments like these, Kubo felt like he understood the old man.

   "<Well, she did teach me... to play guitar.>" Kubo offered, choosing his words carefully to make sure the words got across clearly. "<She would've been great at... teaching me... how to play the shamisen.>"

   "<Oh, she was the best at everything.>" One of his aunts commented. The other rolled her eyes.

   "<Not necessarily the best at choosing a husband.>" She smirked. Kubo wasn't sure how to feel about that.

   "<Don't let your breakfast get cold.>" His grandfather told him.

   "<Oh, yes.>"

=-=

   "Hey Dad, why are there so many different types of rock music?"

   "Well, rock music is like... all the lives a person can live. It has roots and branches and estranged inspirations and other genres it influences. It's probably just about the most diverse genre out there. Your mother prefers the softer stuff, but I'm more of a Guns N' Roses-Fallout Boy man."

   "What about me?"

   Hanzo set his hand on his son's head and tilted the boy's head side to side a moment.

   "You're still in your School of Rock phase, you just need to learn all the broad strokes and basics."

   "School of Rock?"

   "We have the movie somewhere, you'll love it. I'll show you what I mean."

=-=

   In the end, all Kubo could say about his new life was, it sounded nice enough.

**Author's Note:**

> And on the incredibly off chance anyone was wondering, Kubo's braces are red.  
> (I mostly made this because I headcanon School of Rock is highkey Kubo's favorite musical. Both the movie and the Broadway version. Also, no one ever makes these sorta things for Kubo and the Two Strings and that makes me sad, so it had to be done.)  
> Btdubs, I'm like ravenous for comments and it would brighten my life and put a smile on my face to get some~^^


End file.
